


The Hex pt. 9

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: The Hex [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Non-Con, Temporarily Female Sam, Temporarily Female Sam Winchester, Violence, creepy guys coming on to sam, mature sexual themes, mature themes, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean get separated, Kaleb tries to get Sam to forget who he is by taking him away to an elite club up north. Sam investigates what exactly goes on there and has to "play his part."<br/>Meanwhile, Dean teams up with Farrah to search for Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hex pt. 9

**Author's Note:**

> Things heat up - this is the second to last part, guys. :)

One of Kaleb's guards opened the door to the manor, and Sam and Dean barged in. When they turned the corner, they saw Farrah there, tied to a chair, white cloth tied securely around her mouth. She cried out and they went to go untie her, but then felt a strong gust toss them back. They were flung onto the floor with a hard thud.

Kaleb strode into the room, wearing his usual tasteless black suit.

Dean struggled to get up. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. This is on me."

"Gladly," Kaleb started. "After we have a little chat."

Sam and Dean stood and brushed themselves off.

"How are you feeling, Sam?"

Sam glanced from Dean to Kaleb. "Great. Thanks for asking."

Kaleb chuckled. "Well I am thrilled to hear that, _sweetheart_. Because, see, I have what you need. Right. Here." He pulled out from his jacket a brown, leather-bound manual and gave it a wave. "It's the one you tried to _steal_ from me, am I right?"

Dean almost lunged forward, but Kaleb held his hand out and then it was like they were both frozen in place, unable to move.

"Just let us use it, we'll leave you alone," Dean bit out, desperation in his voice.

"Oh I will. But I think I'll wait until the transformation is complete." He slipped the book back in his jacket.

"What're you talking about, you asshat?" Dean said.

"See, I wasn't lying when I said the spell is irreversible. At least, to some extent. I just lied about the whole process. And the time frame. You've got two to three weeks before precious little Sammy forgets everything; who he was, his life as a man, even his own name. And even that's being generous."

"You're lying. Son of a bitch is lying again," Dean tried to tell Sam.

"Wish I was." Kaleb tore the cloth down over Farrah's chin and it hung around her neck. "You read the book before I caught you. Tell them."

"He's telling the truth," Farrah sobbed out. "I'm so sorry, Dean, I tried..."

"Let her go."

"Of course," Kaleb nodded slyly, then snapped his fingers. Only when he did, Sam was in the chair and Farrah stood beside Dean.

"Sam!" Dean tried to move but it was like invisible hands held him everywhere.

Sam struggled in the chair, his hands tied tightly behind it.

"Oh, don't worry, _darling._ We're going to have so much fun." Kaleb leaned over and stroked Sam's cheek and Sam tore it away violently.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouted. But then Kaleb gave him a wicked ugly smirk and he and Sam both disappeared. Just vanished. Like a magic trick. And nothing remained but the chair and some rope. And it was like the invisible hands finally released him and Dean flung forward.

"Sam!" Dean clutched the empty chair, frantically looking around.

Farrah just stood there, eyes wide and teary.

"Where did he take him?!" Dean boomed at her.

"I don't know—" she started to shake her head, but Dean grabbed her and shook her.

"Where?!"

"I don't know!"

"Why would he even want him?!"

"I don't know!"

Dean released her and she stumbled back. He scrubbed at his face and ran his hand through his hair, trying not to have a panic attack. Sam was taken, yet again, by a witch. They probably only had a few days left to read the spell and get him back to normal, and he was gone. Everything had gone to shit in under ten minutes.

Dean threw all of the glasses off the stupid minibar with one sweep and they all crashed to the floor and shattered.

 

xxx

 

Sam was in a dingy, drippy room with four cement walls, tied up in the middle to a chair by his hands and feet. Kaleb stood by the door, watching him pitifully.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked.

"Why do you think? Thievery is a crime worth punishing, my dear. Oh, but don't worry. In a few days, you'll forget all about this. See, what will happen is inevitable. So really, I'm not _doing_ anything." He chuckled darkly.

Sam struggled against his binds. "You have the spell. You could change me back. Please, that's all I want."

Kaleb was stroking his face again, a cold thumb brushing his cheek and smearing over his lips. Sam tossed his head away.

"I know that. But see, why would I do that, when you're going to make me lots of money with that pretty face of yours... And that... _delicious_ body..." Kaleb's eyes travelled down, and Sam squirmed when Kaleb stroked his shoulder.

And then, Kaleb was gone. And Sam was left there, shivering and listening to the _drip drip drip_ of the pipes overhead.

_Money?_

"Dean!" Sam called out. No use. He was utterly alone.

 

xxx

 

Over the next twenty-four hours Dean called everyone they knew in hopes of uncovering where Kaleb had taken Sam. Crowley was a dick, Jody said she'd get right on it but hadn't found anything yet. Garth was... well, Garth.

Dean had even threatened the guards in Kaleb's manor with a firm knife to their throat but all they had revealed was that Kaleb often left like that for days or weeks at a time and they didn't know where or why.

Farrah was with Dean the whole time. They were at the motel on phones and computers, and Dean had been pacing pretty much since they got there.

"All I can remember about Kaleb's little trips is that he only discusses them with his elite clientele, like it's some sort of club." Farrah was on Sam's computer, typing away.

"A club, what do you mean? And why would he take Sam there?"

"I don't know, I'm still trying to figure it out."

"I mean this place can't be far, right?"

"It's not the distance I'd be worried about," Farrah said. "It's a witch's club. That means it could be hidden under the guise of another place, some other building, concealed with magic."

Dean sighed, rubbing his temple. "What do you mean _clients?_ I thought Marco was a teacher."

She nodded. "And he sells his spells, for a hefty price. That's why he doesn't tolerate thievery."

Dean shook his head. "Well how can we find one of these—these elite clients?"

Farrah's eyes widened knowingly.

 

xxx

 

Each morning, and Sam was pretty sure it had only been two, Kaleb would stroll in and ask him "how are you feeling today, _Alex?_ " He didn't know why he was calling him that. It was like a name he chose for him to identify with. But every time he'd reply "fuck you."

"Not hungry or anything? That's fine, I'll come back tomorrow."

Sam's stomach grumbled at the thought of food. His wrists and ankles were raw, and he had heavy bags under his eyes because he hadn't slept a wink in the last forty-eight hours.

He had had plenty of daydreams, though. Things his thoughts fabricated. He thought he saw himself quickly once, leaning in the corner of the room, tall and all chest and muscle. Another time he stood right in front of him, arms folded and looking down with an eerie pitiful smile. Sam actually asked him— _guy_ Sam—to help him. But he didn't. He turned and walked away, but Sam gasped and jerked his eyes open just as guy Sam reached the door and touched the knob.

 

From where Sam was being kept, he could hear voices coming from an upper level, and every night music would play. He heard muffled, repetitive beats pounding until all hours of the night. It was partially what kept him up. That and the fact that he was bound uncomfortably to a chair in a damp cellar.

He deducted that he was in some underground room of a nightclub of sorts.

By day three Sam was starting to wonder why he wasn't starting to believe he was this "Alex."

He reminded himself almost every hour who he was, who his brother was, what his father and mother's names had been, where he was born. It was strange waiting for this inevitable amnesia, like someone who knew they would eventually develop Alzheimer's disease. But remarkably by day four, Sam was still Sam, and so he concocted a plan. Why not go along with this? If Kaleb believed Sam believed he was "Alex," Sam could surely get away with a lot more right under his nose. He could find out where he put the book, for starters. Eating seemed pretty beneficial right about now, too.

So when Kaleb came in the room and asked him "how are you feeling today, Alex?" Sam replied "hungry..." and tried his best to look dazed and confused.

Kaleb gave a satisfied smirk and turned on his heel. Minutes later he returned with a bowl of something. Sam gazed up at the food and opened his mouth when Kaleb went to spoon questionable mush into it. It tasted despicable, but Sam swallowed it down.

"Now," Kaleb purred, stroking his cheek. "What is your name?"

Sam looked up at him through bleary eyes. "Alex... I think..."

 

xxx

 

Dean and Farrah had spent the last eighteen hours or so tracking down a previous client of Kaleb's. They had spoken to three different witches. Farrah had been the one that did most of the talking. She told Dean to keep his mouth shut, and convinced the other witches Dean was one of them when they appeared suspicious.

The client guy had a nice place. Which is why it was a shame they had to barge in uninvited. He gave up information only when Dean held a knife to his throat, and they finally got an address. Apparently the place was a club somewhere up north where Kaleb exploited the services of women to clients who were willing to pay. The guy told them he had paid for the night once a while back with a "pretty little ginger thing" and had grinned wide, recalling the memory of her.

The thought of Sam in a place like that made the drive up north that much more hasty and uncomfortable. Dean kept checking the clock in the dashboard. He hadn't slept at all. Farrah had said he was a machine. She even offered to drive after the first day on the road, but Dean refused. He just wanted to get his goddamn brother back now.

 

xxx

 

Kaleb led Sam out of the cellar, into a long corridor. His cool, lanky fingers rested at his back as they made their way and Sam rubbed at his aching wrists.

"Come, my darling... You are going to make me some money tonight. Of course, I pay all my girls at the end of every week, so you'll earn yourself a decent living here. You'll soon thank me, Alex. For saving you. Picked you up off the street cold and alone, with no recollection of your past."

Sam bit his tongue and glowered as Kaleb led him up some stairs, then down another hall, one that was noticeably louder, past various open doors. Sam glanced inside each room and noticed women sitting around, talking, some doing their hair, some doing their makeup, some half naked trying clothes on. They all stared at him as he passed.

"Ladies," Kaleb turned into one of the rooms at the end of the hallway and two of them glanced up from what they were doing. They sat at a large vanity, one that stretched on all the way across the wall, applying blush to their cheeks and red lipstick to thin pursed lips.

"This is Alex. She's new. She's special. I want you to get her ready for tonight." He pushed Sam in, and they stood and crowded around him. They had long fingernails and they touched him everywhere: his hair, his cheeks, his hands. They even plucked at his clothing, sizing him up. Sam stood there awkwardly. Kaleb leaned in his ear.

"Oh and darling, you're not a virgin, are you?"

Sam turned and looked at Kaleb's dark eyes, his thin pasty lips. This man was hundreds of years old and _this_ is what he chose to do with his immortality. A flipping whore house.

Sam shook his head, and Kaleb stroked his shoulder. "Good."

 

xxx

 

"Dean, you need to sleep. Let me drive," Farrah insisted. They had been on the road for thirty hours or so, (just their luck that the place had to be so friggin far up north) and Dean hadn't slept, hadn't even stopped to eat or for a bathroom break.

"Please. If we're going to get your brother back he's going to need you alert and strong."

Dean pulled over and killed the engine. He thumbed his temple, his eyes momentarily tightening closed. She had a point.

"You know where to go?" He asked her.

She nodded and he turned the wheel over to her and fell asleep for the next few hours.

 

xxx

 

Sam barely recognized himself when the girls were done with him. He was sitting in one of the chairs, had been for two hours or so, while they put makeup on him and did his hair and put color on his nails. They spun him around in the chair and he looked wide-eyed through the mirror at the woman staring back at him.

His hair was all straight and shiny, draping neatly just above his shoulders. He had dark black shadow around his eyes and bright red lips. The prominent lines of his cheekbones were accentuated with a deep blush. He was... pretty. They changed him out of his clothes and into a skimpy outfit—if it could even be called that—that matched theirs; black lace panties and garter stockings and belt, and a tight black corset that they pulled on over his naked shoulders and tied it up his back so tight that he could barely breathe.

He was trying to talk to the girls, ask them things about the place, about Kaleb, without seeming too suspicious. He gathered that this was a club for people Kaleb was trying to impress or gain the favor of. And these girls just went along with whatever he told them because Kaleb had apparently helped them each out some way or another. Kaleb was starting to remind Sam more and more of a mob boss. Everyone seemed to either owe him something or want to kill him.

The girls asked questions about Sam, too. Like where he came from, why Kaleb had called him "special," and what "moisturizer" he used. He responded the way he knew Kaleb would expect him to: he lost his memory, Kaleb picked him up and took him in. Apart from that he didn't give anything else away about himself. They were fascinated with him, though, and couldn't keep their hands off him. Kept calling him "mysterious," and told him that the guys would love that, if he decided to play it up. They explained that they all had specific "roles" when they got out there and danced for the guys.

" _Danced?_ " Sam gulped. No way. No way in _hell._ (Which, by the way, he had been to, and most definitely had not danced there.)

Two of them, the blonde and the redhead, nodded enthusiastically and nearly laughed at him.

"Oh but don't worry, hon, by the end of today you'll know all the moves that drive guys crazy. I wouldn't worry about it. You just gotta look sexy." The blonde smiled and fluffed her hair. "Which you do _not_ have to worry about."

"Bitch," the redhead mumbled under her breath and fixed her lipstick in the mirror.

 

Kaleb came to see Sam in his room: a small, square-shaped chamber that had red walls and a bed with four gold posts and some small posters for cabaret shows pasted up next to a mirror. It apparently used to belong to a girl named Ashley who was unfortunately let go. It looked like she left in quite a hurry. The bed was still upturned.

Sam was standing by the mirror, lacing up some knee-length boots like it was the world's most difficult task, telling himself that this was temporary, he was just here to get what he needed, when Kaleb joined him and tsked a few times.

"My, my, my..." Kaleb strode toward him, then supported the calf Sam was fidgeting with and stroked it once, fingers gliding up the leather. "You look exquisite. You have truly blossomed, Alex. You are the prettiest woman in the whole house. My clients will _adore_ you. Kiss the ground you walk on. You will see, darling."

Sam resisted tearing his leg away and beating the utter crap out of the creep right there, but he remembered to play his part.

"Thank you."

Kaleb tied the rest of his boot up for him and then Sam stood and straightened and looked himself over in the mirror. He was a woman. He had small shoulders and a skinny waist that was drawn up tight by the corset. He had breasts, cleavage even. Hips that jutted out, prominent gap between his nylon-covered thighs. He didn't recognize any part of himself. Even as Kaleb came up behind him and stroked his shoulder, he just stared. Then, Kaleb brushed the hair from over his ear and whispered close to him: _you're mine now, you belong to me..._

Sam would have been deeply disturbed if he wasn't so certain he was going to get the hell out of there and that when he did, Kaleb would be long dead. Sam was determined. So even when Kaleb kissed his neck, opened his mouth on it and grunted, making stupid, ugly noises through his nose, Sam just glared through the mirror and imagined Kaleb's head rolling away from his body.

A knock at the open door made Kaleb compose himself again.

"It's eleven." The blonde was staring at them, dark-eyed. Sam couldn't tell if that look was disgust or envy, though he didn't want to imagine why it would be the latter. Eleven was when it all began, according to the other girls.

Kaleb nodded, and before he left, told Sam "make me proud."

 

The place actually did look a lot like a house. There were rooms everywhere. But what confused Sam was that in the center of it all was one huge open room that looked like a bar or a club: tables and chairs in one section, comfortable sitting areas in another: huge chairs with armrests, beanbag couches, lounging stools, and everything was lit by red. Sam thought it must've been the workings of some intricate spell because the architecture made no sense. Whenever he turned a corner he found himself in a new area. The other girls seemed to know it well, so he followed them. Walking down a hall to the main room, Sam saw some stairs that led up into darkness.

"Where's that lead?" Sam asked anyone who was listening.

"Curiosity killed the cat," the redhead uttered over her shoulder.

But the blonde told him "that's where Kaleb sleeps" with a raised brow.

 

They all strut into the main room, right into heavy music booming loud and gritty. They all dispersed, and Sam was left alone, his heart tightening in his chest. He watched the girls start to sway and dance in front of men who sat in chairs or at tables and he began to get really anxious for the first time. He didn't know what to fucking do. He didn't want to start dancing for these fuckers. He didn't even know how. He just wanted to leave. He couldn't believe what he had somehow gotten himself into.

But then he noticed the blonde look back at him as she swung her hips and give him a little nod of encouragement.

A lot of the men were watching him and he felt like a fool. But he tried to remind himself that he was playing a part. And he wasn't wearing this tight outfit and all this makeup for nothing. He _was_ a girl now. And no one was there who knew who he really was. So he started to mimic the blonde girl, what she was doing. He stood right in the middle, at the front of all the tables, and as the dirty music blared, he started to sway back and forth.

The blonde ran her hands up her hips, up her waist and eventually behind her neck slowly, rocking to the beat of the music, and so Sam did the same. He let his hands trail up his thighs, over the garter belt, up the lacy corset until he reached his neck and he brushed his hair up a little with it.

He shut his eyes as he let the beat consume him, take over, dominate his movements. And soon it was all coming pretty easy, his body loosening and becoming more fluid with each passing second. He thought about Dean, wondered where he was, if he was looking for him. He would never recognize him like this.

When Sam opened his eyes again a whole sea of male faces seemed to be staring at him. One of them stood and took his hand and said something in his ear that was hard to hear over the music but that sounded a lot like "I want you."

The man led him through the crowd toward the back of the club where the "private rooms" were. Sam panicked, trying to wiggle his hand free, but the man only tugged harder and tightened his grip. It was starting to hurt. Sam watched the people slip away, made brief eye contact with the blonde who watched him disappearing almost with a confused look on her face, and then he was being pushed into (yet again) a very _red_ room by the hands of this stranger. This one was so red it almost hurt his eyes.

"Sit down," he instructed, his deep voice clearer now that the music was muffled out. He was huge, reminded Sam of the beefy bikers that would straddle the backs of Harleys he and Dean used to count while riding down highways.

If he was still a guy, he _might_ have stood a chance with this guy. But now he felt like he had no choice but to listen. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

The man unbuckled his belt and it made loud clinking sounds that rung in Sam's ears. Sam was going to throw up. His stomach kept jolting, warning him of impending danger.

_Not my body, not my body, not my body..._

Just as the man unbuttoned his pants, stepping forward, leveling his hips with Sam's head, the door burst open and Sam flinched, shutting his eyes.

"Get out," someone said.

"What the fuck did I do?" The man hissed.

"Now." It was Kaleb.

"Fuck you."

Sam opened his eyes again and the burly man was buttoning his pants up, and then he stormed out. Sam's arms trembled, his hands clutching the bed under him tightly. He looked up and Kaleb stepped forward, extending his hand to stroke Sam's cheek. Then, Sam gasped as the back of Kaleb's hand suddenly came down hard high on his cheekbone. His head flung to the side, and he fell onto his elbows on the bed.

"You will _never_ room a man without my permission, first. Got it?"

Sam turned, hair all messed up and in his face, and bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. The blonde stood in the door, watching on anxiously.

After Kaleb left, the blonde rushed in and put Sam's hair behind his ear for him, fixing it.

"We should have told you," she said. "We never go into a private session without asking K first."

"Yeah," Sam bit out, standing and straightening himself out. "That would have been good to know sooner."

 

Sam slipped away for the rest of the night, using the whole ordeal as an excuse to roam around the premises in search of the book, pretending he needed "his space."

As the music resounded in the other room, he crept up the dark stairs he had eyed earlier. There were three or four more rooms up there, but Sam went straight for the biggest one at the end of the hall. He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. There was a bed right in the middle with four tall posts stretching up to the ceiling and sheer drapes falling around it. The moonlight shone through a window and Sam used it as his light. He sifted through drawers, through the wardrobe, even looked under the bed. The book was nowhere to be found. Cursing, he shook his head. _If I were Kaleb, where would I hide a book?..._ He heard a noise that sounded like it was right outside the door that startled him and he waited a few more minutes before leaving. He briefly searched the other rooms but one of them was just a bathroom and other two were empty with simple, uninhabited beds.

 

The music stopped, signifying the end of the night, and Sam crept down the steps before anyone noticed he wasn't where he was supposed to be and shut himself in his room to catch his breath.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would find the book and get someone—maybe one of the girls—to read the spell for him and he would be himself again. Then, he could find Dean and they would go back to Lebanon and all of this would just be one really bad memory.


End file.
